


The Glory of a Day

by coconutcluster



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (mentioned!) - Freeform, Chanukah, Hanukkah, M/M, Patton Sanders (mentioned) - Freeform, Snow, Snowball Fight, Virgil Sanders (mentioned) - Freeform, fluff fluff fluff, fluff!, for a gift exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:45:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutcluster/pseuds/coconutcluster
Summary: Just a fluffy one-shot of teenage Logince hanging out (in the snow)! <3(title from a quote by Rachel Cohn)





	The Glory of a Day

**Author's Note:**

> For unring-this-bell on tumblr for the Secret Sanders exchange!!!

“I am not stepping out in that, Roman.”

“That’s because you’re a weenie.”

Logan’s sigh is muted by the wind singing in the trees - not that Roman would heed it, anyway - as he stares at the other boy, knee deep in the snow in Logan’s front yard, his mittened hands covered in matted flakes as he wades through the mounds. It’s far too cold for Roman to be out in the snow, let alone  _ that  _ far in it, with his meager sweater and lopsided earmuffs, and Logan has no intention of getting pneumonia so close to Christmas, thank you very much; he just watches from his porch, arms crossed over his chest and a single eyebrow raised. 

“I’m not a-” Logan squints as Roman trips and faceplants in a small hill of snow, “-a  _ weenie _ , Roman, I just have common sense. I’d like to keep my immune system in tact for now.”

“That’s because your immune system is a weenie,” Roman laughs, glancing up at Logan, cheeks flushed from the cold - Logan’s heart flutters, though he smothers a smile. “Mine is strong. A Finnish soldier.”

“You got a cold last week.”

“That was Virgil’s fault! He attacked me, my health - and my Finnish soldier immune system - and this is my retaliation-”

“You’re retaliating by playing in the snow?”

Roman’s mouth pulls into a crooked smile, a dimple whittling itself into his cheek. “Revenge is a dish best served cold,” he winks; Logan groans. 

“I’m going to leave you in the cold,” he warns, pointing an accusing finger at the snowflake-covered boy in his yard. “I will leave you here in the snow and lock my door.” Roman just laughs. “I’m not joking.”

“Sure you aren’t.” Roman stops suddenly with his hands hovering just above the snow; his gaze sweeps the yard, as if taking in the view from his oh-so-generous perspective, and he frowns. “Although… you know what?”

“What.”

Their eyes meet across the yard: Roman’s brow is knit, and he chews on the inside of his cheek contemplatively in an expression that’s, thankfully, not quite his I-have-an-idea-that-will-most-definitely-get-us-killed-or-arrested face. A small smile makes its way to Logan’s face. Roman’s awfully cute when he’s thinking, rare as it may be. ”There’s too much snow.”

(There goes the smile.) Logan blinks, deadpan. “What?”

“There’s too much,” Roman repeats, as if that explains his point any better. 

Logan furrows his eyebrows and takes a step down from his porch - the snow is silent beneath his feet, and soft, like a pillow, if a pillow normally swallowed half his leg as soon as he stepped onto it - arms still crossed, and he sighs again. “Roman, I told you yesterday there’d be six inches by this evening.” Roman doesn’t respond, just digs his hand into the snow as if examining it. “If it’s bothering you, we can go inside.” Still silent. “My mom said she’d make hot chocolate-”

He’s cut off by a flurry of snow connecting with his face.

Roman’s boisterous laughter echoes through the hushed neighborhood, and Logan hears him clapping like the giddy dork he is as his target wipes the snow from his glasses. “I knew I could get you out here! Oh my  _ gosh _ , you should see your face right now, Lo, it’s too good- or, I think it is. I can’t see it behind the snow!” He starts giggling all over again. “Ah, I’m sorry, Logan, I just couldn’t resist!”

His laughter dies off suddenly as Logan stays silent, shaking his head to clear the excess snowflakes from his hair and wiping at his face, lips pursed. He feels the snow biting at his cheeks, sees little flakes resting uninvited on his eyelashes - God knows how, always bypassing his glasses some way or another - as Roman’s face falls. 

“Lo?” he asks quietly, voice small. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, I just…” The neighborhood feels too quiet suddenly as Roman shuffles forward through the snow, toward Logan, one arm outstretched like a peace offering. The other boy just sighs, curling a hand into the snow. “It was a dumb joke, I-” 

Logan throws a snowball at him.

It lands lower than he aimed, hitting Roman square in the chest and exploding across his bright red sweater, sending him reeling back in surprise; Logan can’t contain his smile as Roman touches a hand to the snow on his chest as if he’s been shot, eyes wide with shock and mouth a perfect  _ o _ . 

“Logan,” he breathes, “you  _ betrayed  _ me.”

“You hit me first.”

“I was supposed to be the mastermind!” Logan snorts. “I’ve been out-traitored! How could you?”

“This was your own doing,” he says with his nose in the air, at which point he realizes he’s probably spent just a  _ bit  _ too much time with his best friend, an air of triumphant royalty around him now. 

It all but disappears as Roman’s mouth twitches into another crooked smile and he swipes away the snow on his chest, a sudden gust of wind brushing a few messy waves into his eyes, along with another flurry of snowflakes that shadows him in a thin wall of white. Logan can’t help but feel it’s a dramatic omen.

“Well, if we’re playing that game,” Roman grins, digging his mittened hands into the snow.

_ Oh. Oh, no. _ “Wait, Roman-”

“No, it’s alright, Logan; I appreciate your noble vengeance. Very admirable,” he continues airily as he sculpts the snow in his palms into a ball - Logan eyes it, scrambling back as much as he can through the snow toward the steps to his porch, swallowing a nervous laugh. “I think Virgil would be proud of you. Patton, not so much - but, if it helps, Patton would  _ definitely  _ not be proud of me.”

Before Logan can process the statement, Roman leaps forward - how he manages to do so through the snow confounds Logan, but Roman is, in general, very confounding - and they collide, sending snow and shouts across the front yard as they tumble to the ground; Logan’s eyes are squeezed shut, but he feels the snowball in Roman’s hand hit his shoulder and the wet, knitted material of the other boy’s mittens brush across his cheeks, right before the snow surrounds him in a very cold and unwanted embrace. Roman’s infectious laughter fills his ears like bells as he opens his eyes to find a bright smile and shining eyes directly above him. The snow suddenly doesn’t feel as cold, but perhaps it’s just the heat creeping up Logan’s neck and face - it doesn’t help that Roman’s hands fall to rest on his chest, a gentle weight through Logan’s coat, as he straddles Logan in the snow.

“I am victorious once more!” he cheers, cheeks flushed as he pumps one fist into the air - Logan tries hard not to think about the heat Roman’s hand left on his chest, and squints indignantly up at him.

“I didn’t even get a chance to fight back- that’s not a victory!”

“Sounds like a victory to me.”

“Well-”

“I’m not the one in the loser’s position,” Roman sings, poking a finger to Logan’s chest, a cheeky grin on his face, and Logan feels the blush on his face grow hotter. 

“Get off of me.”

“Not until you admit it’s a victory!” 

“Absolutely not.”

“Admiiiit itttt.” Logan squirms in vain as Roman huffs a few stray waves from his eyes, that same dumb smile on his face. “Say it’s a victory, Logan. Say it.” He pokes Logan cheek. “Say it. Say it. Say it-”

“Fine!” Roman’s smile widens, eyebrows raised as Logan mumbles, “You win.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“You win. Get off me.”

“...very well.” Roman rolls off him, faceplanting in the snow with a satisfied grunt. A fond smile finally quirks at Logan’s mouth. 

“Roman.” Another grunt. “Would you like hot chocolate now?” Roman nods into the snow; Logan lets out a small snicker, and Roman glances up, snow in his eyelashes and bangs as he grins at his best friend. 

“Let’s get out of the cold.”

 

Ten minutes later - Roman was very reluctant to pull himself out of the snow, so Logan was left to grab his hand and drag him to the porch steps, albeit with a lot of groaning and whining from both parties - they’re situated in Logan’s kitchen as his mom sets out a tray of hot chocolate and marshmallows, giving them both a wink before heading back to her office. Roman, cheeks still pink from the cold, gives a grateful smile as Logan hands him a blanket. 

The bespectacled boy watches him shiver into the comforter with a single raised eyebrow. “I told you it was too cold out there.” Roman scowls at nothing in particular and grabs a mug from the tray. “If you get sick within the week, it’s not my fault-”

“I know,” Roman groans into his hot chocolate, rolling his eyes, “Logan Berry is the all-knowing being in my life and I should listen to him unequivocally.” He bows his head dramatically. “I’m so sorry, Oh Great One.”

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but I’ll forgive you due to your satisfactory use of ‘unequivocally’.”

Roman simpers. “I saw it in a book.”

Logan fakes a shocked look, eyebrows raised, as he grabs the other hot chocolate and takes a small sip. “I didn’t know you could read.” He almost chokes on the drink with a laugh when Roman smacks his arm, paired with a very offended gasp. 

“Listen, Mr. Einstein,” the other boy utters in feigned offense, “just because not  _ all  _ of us are honors students doesn’t mean we’re-”

“Illiterate?”

“Don’t use your big words against me, menace.”

“I hardly think that’s a big word, Roman-” Roman cuts him off by putting a finger to Logan’s lips, his eyes closed like he’s praying. Logan waits for him to lower his hand, but they just sit in silence for a few moments as Roman takes a long sip of his hot chocolate, a smile twitching at his lips as if he can feel Logan glaring at him. “Roman-”

“Shhhhhhhh,” Roman hisses. “Let me have a few moments in stupid silence.”

“You’d get that more if you didn’t talk all the time.”

“Okay,  _ ow _ .” Roman’s eyes flutter back open as Logan’s laugh reverberates through the room; his brown eyes are shining once more, crinkled at the edges and clearly speckled with gold under the bright lights of the kitchen as he watches his bespectacled friend grin into his drink. “Are you going to keep insulting me until I leave, then?”

Logan, between giggles - which are highly undignified, if he’s to say so himself, but he does not say so, so what does it matter, really? -  manages a wheezing, “Only if you give me a reason to.”

“Well, I suppose I should be glad I have to leave soon, then. I’d simply give you too many reasons. My ego couldn’t take it.”

Logan’s smile falters. “You have to leave early?”

Roman takes another sip of his hot chocolate - which is nearly gone already - and nods, glancing at the clock above Logan’s front door, which reads just past five o’clock. “I have to be home before sunset,” he says, almost bitterly, though his face lights up with another smile a moment later. “First day of Chanukah.” 

Logan snaps to attention at the mention of the holiday, eyes wide (how had it slipped his mind?) as Roman starts to gather his stuff in his crimson backpack. Clearing his throat, Logan straightens up and curls his fingers tighter around his mug, and with a small glance at Roman from the corner of his eye, looks casually down at his hot chocolate and says, “That means tomorrow is the twenty-fifth of Kislev, right?”

Roman freezes in his tracks, the comforter around his shoulders half-shed and trailing across the floor. “ _ What _ ?”

Oh. 

Oh, no.  _ Was that wrong? _

Logan had spent hours at the library the last weekend researching the holiday - there were still stacks of books in his room to attest for that, on everything from modern customs to the earliest history - so he wouldn’t look like an idiot when Roman grinned about it like he always does, but now he’s gone and said something stupid anyway. 

He swallows around the lump in his throat, muttering, “...is that- is that not right?”

“No! No, that’s right.” Logan’s posture collapses with a sigh of relief, and Roman tilts his head at him. “Do you just know everything? Do you have a little encyclopedia in that endearingly geeky head of yours?” He gives Logan a small flick to his temple, thankfully missing the blush on his friend’s face as he narrows his eyes. “Or you just remember everything all the time? Is that what’s happening here?”

Logan, the anxiety in his chest subsiding as quickly as it had welled up, gives Roman a dry look. “I don’t have an eidetic memory, Roman- or an encyclopedia, no; not in my head, anyway. I looked it up.” Roman blinks at him, equal parts disappointed and confused. “I just wanted to be able to actually talk  _ with  _ you about Hanukkah this year, rather than sitting blankly while you go on about something important to you.” He takes another sip of his drink, but sets it down almost immediately when the kitchen remains silent.

Roman is staring at him with a small, crooked smile, eyes shining - it isn’t the gleam of victory or pride that Logan is so used to seeing in his best friend, but something softer, more fond, and Logan is sure he’s about to spontaneously combust in his mother’s favorite dining chair. 

“You researched Chanukah for me?” Roman says, his voice barely more than a whisper. Logan can only nod. 

In an instant, a pair of arms are wrapped around him; he hears Roman mumble “You’re such a nerd,” into his shoulder before hugging tighter, and Logan’s face is  _ absolutely  _ on fire as he slowly returns the embrace, a well of pride rushing through his head at making Roman happy instead of screwing it all up. 

“You’re my nerd, though, so it’s okay,” Roman grins as he pulls away slightly, holding Logan at arm’s-length to look him in the eye and give him a wink. Logan offers a genuine smile back. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You know it.” Roman pauses and frowns, glancing back at the clock above Logan’s front door with a sigh. “I guess I should get going, then,” he huffs, though his hands don’t fall from their position on Logan’s shoulders; he turns back to his best friend a second later with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. 

Before Logan can consider the look, Roman leans in and plants a kiss on his cheek. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lo,” he winks - he’s at the door in the blink of an eye, leaving a blushing mess in the kitchen, and judging by the cheeky grin on Roman’s face when he turns to wave before leaving, he knows it, which both frustrates and amuses Logan (or it would, if he could think past  _ oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh _ -). 

But he pushes past every other frantic thought in his head, waves as Roman heads out, takes a deep breath…

And looks forward to tomorrow.


End file.
